


Fire Lilies

by linlinlei



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Childhood Trauma, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mental Illness, Multi, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Politics, Post-Canon, Redemption, Sort Of, The Gaang - Freeform, The Gaang is a mess, everyone is a mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:15:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25713400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linlinlei/pseuds/linlinlei
Summary: With summer, the war ends.They think their troubles end with it. They've never been so wrong.As it turns out, a hundred years of war has left the world beyond repair. Structures are complicated and people even more so. So much for restoring peace and harmony to the four nations.In other words;One where the crown is a little too heavy for the head of an awkward, lost teenager. But it's not like he knows when or how to ask for help.This story is set post-series. Heavily inspired by (but not loyal to) the comics, mainly The Promise.Zuko-centric. Character-driven.
Relationships: Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Mai/Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Suki (Avatar), Suki & The Gaang (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 82





	1. Lost Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Gaang doesn't know how to communicate and everyone's a hot mess. But what can you expect from a group of war-traumatized children.

> **connection**
> 
> _/kəˈnɛkʃ(ə)n/_
> 
> _noun._ The state of being connected.

With summer, the war ended.

The Fire Lord was crowned at the first days of the autumn, at the time of yellow bamboo leaves. They talked about restoring peace and harmony to the world with sincere intentions but childlike gullibility. They made promises, the five of them.

By winter, they had parted ways. They were driven by the same force but onto different paths and roles. And a world torn by a hundred-year war flooded with roles, it cried for them to be filled. Restoration, they learned, was bright and clear in dreams only. Structures were complicated and people even more so. They persisted.

They last met in spring, at the time of fire lilies. Whatever worries weighed down on their shoulders were uplifted by the joy of reunion. Or rather, ignored, swept under the rock. They stayed at the Royal Palace, drank sake and plum wine, talked about old times long into the night until the sun rose upon the hills. Like nothing had changed.

Thinking back on it, the cracks that later turned into a rift were already there. Loud and clear, yelling for help, in vain as all ears present were too stubborn to listen. As if in a silent mutual agreement they ignored the dark circles under Zuko’s eyes, the unusual quiet of Katara. Sokka’s overcompensation of bad puns and unnecessary loudness. Toph’s stone cold, rock hard surface.

Before summer, Zuko stopped returning their letters. They were left on rumors and hear-says and at first they did not believe what they heard. The common people said this and that all the time and had little fondness towards the Fire Nation to begin with.

But by the time bamboos had dropped their leaves, it was official. The Fire Lord no longer supported the restoration of harmony. 

Zuko had broken his promise.

  
  


\--

  
  


More than a year had passed since the day of his coronation.

While it may not have been too long considering the usual regimes of the Fire Lords before him, and Zuko could not claim with a pure heart that he was a fast learner, his time as the somewhat disinclined ruler of the Fire Nation had taught him many things.

First, the crown was heavy. Not only figuratively but first and foremost physically. It did not look heavy like some of the headpieces he had seen in history books but then looks could be deceiving. Now that his hair had grown long enough to tuck it in without the help of pins he could do so nearly perfectly by himself without the help of servants. 

Second, his pale skin betrayed dark circles of lost sleep too easily to his liking. He had almost considered asking Suki for some of her face paint to cover it up. Perhaps it said something about him that he thought about this before he thought about actually fixing the root issue and _sleep_ for once.

Third, the Fire Nation was a lot worse than he had known or could have imagined, which might have just proved the extent of his denial. After all, if the Fire Lord treated his own kin by burning off half their face for speaking out of turn at the age of thirteen, it set quite a low standard of respect for the lives that were not of his kin or not of his people.

While the idea of the Banished Prince who returned to help the Avatar and end the war appealed to some, the wounds of a century of war, occupation and oppression hardly healed so fast. Not everyone was willing to forgive. Not everyone was _capable_ of forgiveness, either. Some nights he lay down wondering if they even deserved forgiveness in the first place. Those nights he had a hard time feeling remorse towards himself and even a worse time towards Father.

Other days were easier. Then he could remember Uncle’s words, _an idealist with a pure heart and unquestionable honor,_ and try to live up to it. They had built schools, hospitals, orphanages. Rebuilt villages and towns that were once burned down. Given away their misinformed books and doctrines and taught their people the truth of what had happened no matter how painful said truth was.

It was a sense of hope he was clinging to but the self-doubt never faltered. Coincidentally it turned out to be an attempt on his life that brought him to the city of Yu Dao and got him to question the nature of their plans and his promise to his friends.

Fourth. He learned that politics were a lot more complicated than they had first thought.

  
  


\--

  
  


“Toph!”

For a moment, they decided to forget why they were there. In a lofty room of luxurious decor, dark firewood, volcanic rock and red silk. The Royal Palace. Katara was a Water Tribe native to her very bone but she learned she had missed Caldera nonetheless, its ash bananas, fancy dresses and curious manners. Even the hot and dry summer days that turned her hair frizzy and ran sweat drops down her forehead.

They embraced; first Katara sprinted to Toph, who patted her behind the shoulder blades a lot rougher than necessary, not that she minded. Aang and Sokka were quick to catch up with the girls. The group hug was too warm and passionate to be considered awkward, which was a lot to say about a mismatch group of teenagers. When they let go, they resorted to their usual bickering, old nicknames thrown around.

“Twinkletoes! Snoozles!”

“You know, I never thought I’d miss being called Snoozles.”

“Don’t lie. You’ve always loved the fruits of my poetic creativity.”

More laughter, just like in the old days. A smirk forced the edges of her lips upwards and she didn’t even try to fight back. They pulled seats around the round table in the center of the room, leaning forward if only to be closer to each other. Whether the Fire Nation appreciated elbows on silky tablecloth was not considered.

“Where are Appa and Momo? They’re with you, right?” Toph asked, her face turned to Aang. Much like her toes below the table.

“They’re in the garden. These snobs said no shedding inside the palace! Can you imagine?”

Katara could bet that Toph, who had experienced Appa’s shedding two springs earlier, indeed _could._

“Unacceptable! We must ask Sparky to correct this injustice. Speaking of, where _is_ he?”

“Are we just going to ignore that you asked for Momo and Appa before you asked for Zuko?” Sokka jumped in, but ironically, was in turn ignored, spoken over by his sister.

“We were told he’ll be joining us shortly.” With that, her smile had disappeared, turned into a thin line of pressed lips and a glare. She had been the last one of them to believe the rumors, shaking her head firm in denial even when spoken to directly by a Fire Nation ambassador. They’d argued about it, her and Aang, and in an exchange of letters, Toph had called _her_ blind. Or rather, had one of her students write it down and send it to her on the leg of a hawk. Katara held back her words in sympathy towards whoever would read them to Toph.

But her reluctance to accept the news was for a reason.

_You make one step backward. One slip-up…_

Maybe Aang sensed the shift in her mood, because suddenly there was a hand on her shoulder and words of encouragement, although even at that, she could sense the Avatar wasn’t as certain as he’d want them to believe, either.

“We’re just here to talk, Katara. I’m sure there is a misunderstanding.”

“Talk?” Sokka huffed. He wasn’t holding his boomerang - no weapons allowed for guests within the Palace - but he had his hand in a fist and he was waving it in air in a comical mock threat. “I’m going to knock some sense into him! I’m sure he’s got a very nice haircut to boomerang.” It was apparent he was playing goofy only to lighten the mood, that was what he always did. Her older brother, trying to protect the rest of them in his own, silly way.

“Exactly what are you going to do to my hair?”

Speak of the devil. Their heads snapped to the entrance of the room at once, and before Zuko had even finished the sentence, they’d each pushed themselves up, palms brushing the table in the process. Poor, silky tablecloth. Sokka knocked over a chair.

“Careful! I’m-” the Fire Lord protested, in defence of the very urgent matter that he was holding a tray of a hot tea pot and porcelain cups. No one seemed to listen. Toph beat the race to him and wrapped her arms around him much tighter than what he’d considered physically possible for a thirteen-year-old girl. Sokka followed quick behind with a pat on his back that indeed caused a single stray hair fall down from his topknot. It seemed to be enough to serve the social norms of masculine assumptions, for the jokester hugged him tight short after. Aang joined the embrace, and it was truly a miracle Zuko managed to hold the tray in place and not spill boiling liquid all over their clothes.

“I missed your gloomy, angst-filled face, Sparky! Oh wait- are those hotcakes?”

Sokka’s fingers snatched a plate out of the tray. Had Zuko been any less overjoyed with the heartwarming reunion, he would have slapped his friend’s hand away, frowned at the complete lack of manners, perhaps made a peasant comment. This joy was short-lived, though. When he lifted his eyes, he realized Katara hadn’t joined the hug. She was standing an arms length away with folded hands, pouty lips, and a firm glare. It didn’t sit right with him.

“How _could_ you?” She exclaimed, and it was more of an accusation than a question. Water was life, they said, but right now her eyes were rain and storm and Zuko learned there and then that water could be just as terrifying, just as untamed, as fire. As if startled, too, his friends let go of him and retreated, all eyes - or toes - on Katara.

“I-” He tried to explain, but the attempt was cut off short.

“You promised us! You promised us you’d end the war! That you’d help us restore peace!”

“I _am,”_ he argued, taken aback. “I _am_ ending the war and restoring peace. Just not in _your_ way.”

“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean? Peace at Fire Nation terms is _not_ peace. We agreed on ending the colonies!”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

It was Aang’s turn to raise his voice. “It’s really not, Zuko. The Fire Nation has controlled with fear and terror for a century. It might be _hard_ to dismantle that, but it’s not _complicated._ You knew what was right a year ago, have you forgotten?”

“I haven’t forgotten, I’ve learned we were naive. Look- you two aren’t giving me a chance to explain what’s going on.” He looked around, as if asking for support from the two people in the group who’d remained silent so far, but it turned out Sokka was busy stuffing his mouth full of sweets and Toph was busy listening to the beats of their hearts, the breaths they took, if they were lying or not. None of them were, she’d learned so far.

“How ‘bout we all sit down, have some hotcakes, and talk it through?” Sokka suggested, mouth full of cake and sweet cream. It was his effort to help his friend out. 

Feeling bad for Zuko’s anxious heartbeat, Toph decided to join the rescue mission. It wasn’t fitting to grill the Fire Lord, after all. “I’m in if you’ve left us any hotcakes to have, Snoozles!”

The silence that followed was thick with tension, but at last, the ice on Katara’s face melted. _One slip-up,_ she’d said, but that was before she knew him, actually _knew_ him. They’d both changed since then, grown and learned and toughened and softened. She could live with one slip-up, she decided.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t still mad at him, disappointed in him. Just that she loved him more than she could hate him.

  
  


\--

  
  


Sokka ate all the hotcakes. This surprised no one. He downed them with just enough sweet cream not to burn his mouth.

He was kind enough to leave some tart pies to Toph and Aang, _some_ meaning one to each of them. Katara and Zuko were content with just tea. Jasmine, Uncle’s favorite brew, which Zuko had taken with him the last time he’d visited Ba Sing Se. For a minute, they drank and ate in silence, eyeing one another awkwardly, taking in how they’d changed.

Zuko’s hair had grown, at a rate that maybe sparked a glimpse of jealousy in Katara. Silky, dark locks now fell down to his shoulder blades despite being pulled up to a tight knot. Aang was a head taller than when they’d last seen him. Sokka had grown too, and in case the rest of them missed it, he decided to declare it to the world with his hands festively up in the air.

“Hey! Did you guys notice? I’ve outgrown Zuko! I’m the tallest!” Sokka chanted, clearly proud of his growth spurt over the past year. The notion was met by a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance from Zuko. Men of Fire Nation were rarely blessed with height, women even less so.

“Good for you,” he said as if he didn’t care, but it hardly required Toph’s judge of human character to see he was flustered.

“You’ve gotten fatter, too,” Toph pointed out. “My feet can tell.”

“It’s muscle, not fat!”

“Muscle doesn’t jiggle, Snoozles.”

It surely _did_ feel like old times. While their unresolved quarrel of the terms of peace lingered heavy in the air, they all bit back their questions and excuses. They wanted to pretend, if for a minute longer. Zuko stared down at his tea before awkwardly breaking the silence again.

“So, uh. What have you all been up to?”

“You’d know if you’d read our letters.” Katara couldn’t help her tone. Seeing the shyly apologetic smile that her accusation provoked, she almost felt bad. Almost.

“I’ve read them,” Zuko assured, “I just haven’t had the time to write back.” And as if to prove this, he turned to Toph. “How’s your Metalbending Academy doing?”

“My students are as useless as ever but I’m thoroughly enjoying myself.”

“Uh. That’s nice. How about you, Sokka? Is the South Pole starting to look like it once was?”

“It’s better than ever! We’ve built half a city. It’s just as fancy as the North Pole, can you believe? You should come see it!”

“I’ll come as soon as my duties let me.” There was a smile on Zuko’s face, this time genuinely warm instead of just awkward. He didn’t have to urge the Avatar to tell about the previous months; Aang bet him to it.

“The war has disturbed the Spirit World. I’ve been confronting lost spirits and reserving balance.”

Zuko didn’t understand one bit about spirits or anything related to them and the awkward smile was back. This time, it was Katara who broke the silence.

“And you, what have you been up to? Where’s Mai?”

“We, uh, we broke up.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” Now they were equally awkward.

“It’s fine, it was mutual,” Zuko assured. 

_A lie,_ Toph knew but said nothing.

  
  


\--

  
  


“So, will you explain what happened now?”

The Fire Lord bowed his head, then looked past his group of friends. A lot had changed in a year. Leading a nation that had shaken up the entire world was everything but easy. Whichever decision he made, half the country thought it was too much and the other half that it wasn’t enough. A lot had changed during the war, too, to the point it was easier to build than to rebuild, to look into the future and not the past. Not everything could be restored. 

Some things were broken beyond repair.

He wasn’t sure if they’d understand, but he would give it a try. With a sigh, he began.

“I was so determined to chase this _idea_ of peace and harmony. How things once were - with four separate nations. But I understand now that by doing so, I was neglecting my own people.”

“What do you mean?” Aang frowned.

“Half the world hates me because I represent the Fire Nation and the other half because I don’t represent the Fire Nation harsh enough-”

“That’s not true!” Katara asserted, her mouth in the shape of an _o._ “Wherever I’ve gone, people have been overjoyed to have a just Fire Lord for once.”

Zuko shot her an incredulous look.

“Someone just tried to _assassinate_ me,” he stressed.

This clearly shocked Katara.

_“What_? Oh spirits, are you okay?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got the Kyoshi Warriors protecting me now-”

“Is Suki here?” Sokka gasped. “Why hasn’t anyone told me she’s here?”

“Yes, she’s here! She _just_ arrived, it’s hardly surprising the word hasn’t reached you yet,” Zuko practically snapped, waving a hand in the air. “For the love of spirits, will you let me finish?”

At last, the group shut their mouths. Zuko cleared his throat before continuing.

“So, where was I? Right, the colonies. It was easy to ask colonials to return home from cities like Ba Sing Se and Omashu. Many were displeased, sure, but they’d _lived_ through the war and conquests, they’d seen those cities fall. They’d barely settled down. But Aang, it’s been more than a hundred years since the war started. When I visited Yu Dao, one of the earliest Fire Nation colonies, I met families that had lived there for generations. Earth and Fire together. What kind of a ruler would I be if I tore families and friends apart, simply because of their bloodlines?”

Aang jumped up, looking angrier than Zuko recalled ever seeing him.

“The world is off balance, can’t you see it? We can’t have harmony if one nation occupies the others! The love between some colonials doesn’t erase a century of oppression, Zuko.”

“That’s not what I’m saying! There's a lot of work to be done in the former colonies to restore justice. The scars of this war will probably outlive all of us. But we can’t _force_ people out of their homes because of- because of your childhood nostalgia!”

_Tui and La._ The Gaang watched the argument escalate with eyes wide - or in Toph’s case, toes outspread.

_“What did you say?”_ So inexplicably furious, Aang appeared much older than thirteen. _“Childhood nostalgia?_ The Fire Nation massacred my _entire_ people. Trust me, Zuko, I don’t have the _privilege_ of childhood nostalgia. I’m the last of my kind and I’ve long ago accepted I’ll never have back my people, my culture _or_ my history.”

So much for nostalgia.

Sokka grimaced and anticipated Zuko’s response with increasing horror. Given how _terrible_ the young Fire Lord was with words, he almost expected to hear something along the lines of _that’s rough, buddy._

“And I’m sorry about that, Aang. I truly am. But we can’t think of nations and ideas first. _People_ come first. And the former colonies are full of people who have different cultures and histories and live peacefully side by side. The world has changed and it will continue to change.”

“But we can affect _how_ it will change! We talked about _restoring_ harmony, not enabling change for the _worse_.”

Zuko’s fingers had found their way to massage his temples.

“Agh! Why am I even talking to you about this? You’re just a bunch of children!”

“And you’re an awkward teenager!” Katara retorted.

Zuko was a whisker away from snapping. His hands had turned hot, and it took all the self-control he had not to burn something.

“You know what?” He spat through gritted teeth. “We’re all tired. Let’s sleep on it. I’ll meet you again tomorrow morning.”

With that, he stormed out of the room.

“What a great idea-,” Sokka’s sarcasm broke the silence that followed, “-to try and negotiate peace with the Fire Nation by calling the Fire Lord _an awkward teenager.”_

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's rough, buddy.
> 
> No better way to describe this chapter. This is my clumsy attempt of portraying a group of emotionally inhibited friends fight over what's the right thing to do after a war that has scarred all of them but in different ways.
> 
> To those of you who have read The Promise, I'm sure you recognize the concept I'm working on. It's sort-of like the starting point of this story, but things will proceed differently. This is me dreaming of a Book Four that we were sadly never blessed with.
> 
> As for warnings, this story may contain mature themes. I will explore canonical childhood trauma, war, mental illness and politics. There will be alcohol and (from our modern perspective) underage drinking. Implied child abuse and self-injury.


	2. Prodigy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a tea cup finds itself smashed at Zuko's forehead.

> **prodigy  
> ** /ˈprɒdɪdʒi/  
>  _noun._ A child with exceptional qualities or abilities. **  
> **

To say that their reunion last spring had gone smoother than the previous emotional, ear-screeching clusterfuck of a meeting, was an understatement.

Everything had been better in spring, Toph thought grimly. The air was garden-fresh and clean with the tender scent of fire lilies and sweet blossom. The grass under her toes was mellow and warmly moist, it tickled her ankles and left raindrops atop her feet. Sun kissed her skin. While their hearts beat with dark undertones, the heartfelt reunion was warm enough to make them forget. Or then it was the plum wine Zuko said her and Aang were too young to have but snatched anyway. It tasted fruity with a tart edge to it and gave her mind a pleasant fuzz. Everything was less focused and more vibrant at the same time. And funnier.

_Somehow, they found themselves in the garden of the Palace, lying on the grass beside a fountain. She could no longer recall how the conversation had unwinded but it was brought up that the only disadvantage of her blindness was people. Their nonsense she could not wrap her head around, like fireworks. Like being left out._

_Somehow, this topic lead to them peeking over the edge of the fountain, with Zuko pressing her hand underwater._

_“Blue is water,” he explained, words more slurred than usual. He’d had enough plum wine to smell of it, but that was probably because he’d spilled some onto the silk of his shirt. “Blue is cool. It’s flowing. It’s the sky and ocean.”_

_Next, Zuko was holding her hand against the grass._

_“Green is earth. It’s life. It’s soft and vibrant. It smells like grass after rain. Your eyes are green.”_

_She could sense a spark and the crackling of fire. The scent of fresh smoke. Warmth. Zuko was holding a flame over his palm._

_“Red is fire. It’s warm. I think it feels like silk, but that might be because there’s so much red silk in the palace. It smells like- wait.” He shifted, reached out in the bushes, and Toph heard a snap, a stem being split in two. A quick movement towards her face, then a delicate, fresh odor. A fire lily. She reached out her hand and touched its soft pedals._

_It was the liquor. Probably. Must have been. For next her hand was outsretched and cupping Zuko’s face. At first, he flinched, but then leaned forward, letting her feel the smooth skin of his cheeks, his silky hair, the uneven scar issue._

_The gesture might have appeared romantic to some but no such implication was in their minds. It was just them. Two drunk friends talking about how they sensed life. Well, two until it was three - clumsy, graceless feet stamped towards them before a body fell to the ground with a thud. In other words, Sokka sat down next to them._

_“Can’t you see we’re having a moment?”_

_“I want a moment, too! Try my face, it’s prettier anyway.”_

_Damn, they were truly intoxicated. All of them. She reached out for his face, too. In the meanwhile she could hear Zuko gulp more wine. Sokka’s skin was not quite as smooth but without scar tissue and still quite soft._

_“Oh, I can feel stubble. Has your beard started to grow?”_

_“Really? I knew I was picking after dad!” Sokka beamed with pride._

_“Ha! I got you! Your jaw is soft as a baby.”_

_Zuko burst into laughter. Toph couldn’t recall ever hearing him giggle like so. Sokka practically sunk._

_“That was so unnecessary.”_

Toph smiled at the memory.

She had her back against the soft linen of her bed. They’d been lead to guest rooms after the noisy, _noisy_ argument she’d had to endure. She was sharing one with Katara. Sokka and Aang were in their room just across the aisle. The palace was lofty, spacious, she could tell so by how everything echoed. The guards marched with weighty steps, heavily armored. Their movements were disciplined, as if they were performing a carefully practiced choreography.

Sighted people often treated her as if her blindness was a great disadvantage, but more often than not she felt it was them who were missing out on the world around. Vision, it turned out, was fallible. Their senses were imprecise and unreliable. They did not truly _see_ things for what they were, they were fixated on the surface and on their own narrow sight, too stubborn to show their wounds.

They missed how Aang was hurting, crying out a hundred-year-old hard-luck story. The last of his kind.

They missed how Zuko was tired, tumbling down under the weight of the crown. Torn between two worlds.

They were both sincere. They were both r _ight._ Just too thick-skulled to come together and see how their truths would fit into the same world. What a bunch of absolute idiots. She wanted to either hug them tight and slap them over the ears. Preferably both. At the same time, if possible.

“There are lots of books here.”

“Huh?”

“There are books here,” Katara repeated. She was standing on the other end of the room. Toph could hear her hands against the wall - no, it must have been a bookshelf. Fire Nation literature, she assumed.

“Do you want me to read you something?”

Toph smiled. It had been long since someone had volunteered to read for her. It must have been her mother, the last time it happened, and despite everything, she could admit to herself she missed her mother. If only a bit.

She nodded. They settled on a beautifully narrated mystery novel and read long into the night, falling asleep next to each other.

  
  


\--

  
  


“You look terrible, Zuzu.”

On the topic of regrettable life choices, only Fire Lord Zuko would think it was a good idea to follow an emotionally overwhelming argument with friends by visiting mentally unstable relatives. Somewhere along the years he must have mastered the art of masochism. There was no other explanation.

“You too, Azula.”

Not a lie. If he had dark circles under his eyes - Mai had told him so before she left - her hair was still uneven from where she had cut it. Every bit of her was out of balance, though, so maybe it was only fitting. She didn’t look like she’d had much sleep, either. They had that in common. It must have run in the family.

He sat down and crossed his legs. He had brought with him a tray of tea, not straying away from the choice of soothing Jasmine. Without another word, he filled both their cups, placing one for his sister an arm’s length away to give her some distance. After glaring at him for a minute she sat down, too, mimicking his posture.

If put aside the fact that she was deep into her quest to insanity, and he was crumbling down under the weight of the crown, it almost felt like old times. In their legacy of discord and rivalry they cherished a scatter of pleasant memories. As children of Ozai it was more than they could ask for.

His eyes wandered around the room. White walls, pale silk. A bed as wide as it was tall, covered in soft linen. A wardrobe and a bookshelf with her old belongings. He had brought in her pipa, too, recalling her musical talent from their childhood. But she had thrown it against the wall out of frustration of not playing a tune perfectly to her liking.

“So. What brings me the honor of your presence, Your Majesty?” Her voice was piquant with sarcasm, and under arched eyebrows, she glared at him with her tell-tale murderous look, eyes dark with fire.

“My friends are visiting. The Avatar and-”

“The pathetic group of children you decided to betray the Fire Nation with? How lovely.”

“I didn’t betray the Fire Nation, Azula. Father did. I am restoring the honor of our people.”

She huffed and looked at her painted nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the room. “You make honor sound like an inanimate object.”

Zuko occupied himself with a half-assed attempt of concealing his annoyance. _Breathe. In and out._ He was the Fire Lord, he was better than losing his patience over sibling rivalry.

“Maybe that’s because you don’t understand what it is,” he shot back.

“Enlighten me then, _Brother_. What is it?” The edges of her lips curled upwards, but the expression was too bitter to count as a smile.

“It is doing what is right.”

Somehow, that hit a soft spot. The bitter smile twisted, and suddenly Azula’s face was deformed with pain. The tea cup she’d held found itself hitting the wall, shattered to pieces merely an eyeblink later. She had stood up and at her hands blue fumes were ascending.

At first, they’d had her wrists in chains, to prevent her from burning her surroundings. But she had done so nonetheless. Not to break free, he had realized bitterly later on. The old burns around her wrists were still red and elevated.

“Like you did when you left me alone with Father? I was eleven!” The scream sliced through the air.

Taken aback, Zuko flinched at the sudden outbreak. He’d had no idea she felt this way. Probably because it had never been brought up. Within him flamed a glimpse of guilt. They were silent for a moment, the both of them. At last, Azula sat down. He poured her another cup of tea.

“You weren’t willing to follow,” he said at last, voice gentle, soft.

“And you weren’t willing to leave. But you said it turned out to be the best thing Father did. And maybe you’re right. You’re all out there having _tea parties_ and just-- just moving on. _Like nothing happened._ And I’m stuck _here.”_

Her voice was raw with emotion.

“It doesn’t have to be that way, Azula. You can move on, too.”

“No!” The scream split the air. He wondered what their quarrel must have sounded like to the guards at the other side of the door.

“It doesn’t stop,” she continued. “It never stops! My head hurts and I don’t know how to turn it _off.”_

The words made little sense, but Zuko understood. It might have been only his face that was marked forever but Father had scarred the both of them. Irreparably.

“Uncle said-”, he tried, but Azula cut her off.

“I don’t care what Uncle said!”

They fell into silence again. He poured more tea to himself and tried a different approach.

“You can’t use your lightning, can you?”

Her eyes pore into him, now expectant, focused. She said nothing out loud, but he knew he had her interest. She was waiting for him to go on.

“Lightning is the purest form of fire,” he began, citing the words that Uncle had once spoken to him. “You can’t master it if you’re ashamed. You can’t master it if you’re proud, either. I always thought you were proud, Azula. That’s what you had us believe. But you knew humility better than any of us.

“Father said you were born lucky and he made sure you knew it. He never missed the chance to tell you how talented you were. A true prodigy.

“But we both know they weren’t compliments. Not really. Not from Father, anyway. They were threats disguised as praise.”

“Shut up!”

He didn’t. If only, his voice grew louder. For once, he was going to speak his mind and she was going to _listen_.

“You were terrified of disappointing him. That’s how he controlled you. And that’s how you learned to control others.”

“Fuck off!”

“You say Mother didn’t love you, but you’re wrong. She loved you. She loved you so much. She wasn’t afraid of you. She was afraid of what Father was doing to you-”

_Smash._ Another porcelain cup shattered to pieces, this time against his forehead. There was piercing pain on the right side of his face, just under the hairline. His sight was blurred by blood.

“I said _fuck off!”_

He got up, lifting the tray with him. He didn’t look back before leaving the room.

If he had, he would have seen the tears in her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Azula is an emotionally abused prodigy crushed under pressure and I want to give her a redemption arc.
> 
> I say this as a former-child-prodigy-turned-emotionally-unstable-adult-with-history-at-a-mental-institution :') Whoopsie. I might have poured some feelings into this chapter.


	3. Relation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Fire Lord discusses his remaining family that consists of an imprisoned tyrant, a homicidal inpatient and a retired tea entrepreneur.

> **relation  
>  **/rɪˈleɪʃ(ə)n/  
>  _noun._ Of one's own flesh and blood.

The dining hall table was tall enough to fit all of them as well as an abuntant selection of meaty dishes that caused Sokka unimaginable difficulties of staying still.

The Water Tribe boy piled not one but two plates full of roasted duck, boiled clams, fried squids and Komodo sausages, most of them spiced with chili and fire pepper, not that he listened to any warnings of watching out for his tongue. He ended up coughing and stuffing his mouth with wheat buns to help the burning sensation, eyes watering. His back got sympathetic pats from Suki, who had joined the dinner uninvited but warmly welcomed, for reasons obvious to everyone around.

Zuko would rather not think about it, but he could recall the time they were traveling together and the two lovebirds were sharing a tent. Out of sympathy and second-hand embarrasment, he had pretended not to notice the rose that Sokka practically swallowed. Later that night, Toph had come up to him looking miffed and asked him to _please_ burn her feet again.

He shuddered at the thought and busied himself forcing his thoughts everywhere but. It wasn't a mental image he needed when he was trying to have dinner.

Speaking of. Aang hadn't looked at him in the eye since their quarrel the day before and was poking at the roasted vegetables and noodles placed before him. Suddenly the Fire Lord felt very self-conscious about his position and reasoning there. It must have been the masochist in him that thought about a large get-together around dinner instead of facing Aang privately to sort out their differences. The mood was so awkward he could feel himself sinking through the floor.

At last, someone broke the silence. Someone that wasn't Sokka and his one-man quest to keep up conversation. About food and meat, mainly.

"What happened to your face, Zuko?"

As relieved as the Fire Lord had been to hear Katara's voice, the nature of the question made him regret his wishes. He fought back the urge to bring his hand to the cut below his hairline. The bleeding had taken a while to stop, and the bump that was left had taken on a purple shade.

"Azula threw a tea cup at me," he said, and he must have said it too casually, because it came out sounding like having things thrown at him was a frequent occurrence in the family. While this was not too far from the truth, he did not like the way all eyes in the room glued to him.

Except for Toph, of course. Even worse. She was sitting next to him and leaned closer to touch the bump on his head, only for him to flinch away, and not because of his reluctance to being touched but because it _hurt._

"Is she not locked up?" Ambassador Obvious asked, if only for the annoyance of others.

"Well yes but no." Ah, wasn't he eloquent? Suki made a gesture to his direction, as if trying to shut him up. She looked nowhere near as intimidating without her makeup. "She is in her room and she is guarded well. I got her some tea last night and we had an argument."

"That seems to be a recurring theme with you," Sokka gibed in his jesting manner. This time it was Suki and not Toph who not-so-gently nudged him in the side. The comment was said for comic relief and if it did any good for the grievous mood of the dining hall, the Gaang did not give him credit for it.

Perhaps they were wrong not to. In jest or not, the notion drew their attention onto the dark circles under the Fire Lord's eyes, and the implication that there was more going on with him that he let out lingered in the air. In an effort to understand, Toph voiced out a question they were all thinking about but too sensible to pry on.

"What did you argue about?"

"Uh." What did they? Everything and nothing at the same time. Simply balling with their endless sibling rivalry if to pass time only. Because they did not know how to interact with each other in any other way. "Family stuff," he ended up saying, as if his family didn't consist of an imprisoned tyrant, a long-gone mother, a murderous inpatient and a retired tea entrepreneur.

"What's going on, Zuko?"

"What do you mean what's going on? Am I not allowed to visit my sister?"

"She tried to kill us the last time we saw! And judging by your forehead, she hasn't really changed."

"If your Father was Ozai, you'd want to throw shit around, too."

"Look, we're not trying to pick a fight. We're _concerned_. At first, we don't hear from you for half a year, then we get to know - and _not from you -_ that you've broken your promise. You look like you haven't slept since we last saw and you show up for dinner with a fist-size bump and a cut in your forehead."

"Well, _surprise_. There's a lot happening when you run a nation."

"That doesn't really explain-"

"Are you here to grill me over private matters, or are you here to negotiate the terms of peace?"

\--

Their negotiation proceeded slow and clumsy and with little results but even that was a great improvement from their previous yelling match. Aang did not want to budge and Zuko did not either. In the middle of their conversation, Zuko had one of his staff to fetch them a book and a hefty pile of notes, urging the rest of them to go through them. Updates from the colonies, analyses by local politicians, a book portraying the Yu Dao way of life.

Two hours later, only Aang and Katara remained arguing with the Fire Lord. Toph had exited with "you're all idiots" and Suki and Sokka had sneaked out without a word, assumedly with plans for actions more pleasant than witnessing sleep-deprived friends argue over the state of the world. Servants had long ago taken the lavish assortment of Fire Nation cuisine away and they were left with tea only. Perhaps in an attempt to soften the young Avatar, Zuko had them bring in egg custard tarts as dessert, but whether it made Aang any more favorable to his suggestions was another story.

Just when Zuko was convinced they weren't heading anywhere, Katara wavered.

"You know what, Aang? I think he has a point."

"Are you siding with _him?"_

"I'm just saying there are _families_ we should think of."

"What about the Earth Kingdom families who have lost their homes?"

"I have already discussed that with the locals," Zuko jumped in. "We could sort out each case individually until there is a mutual understanding. Perhaps offer compensation for the property that has been lost."

"It's not about property," Aang argued. "Earth Kingdom families have been deprived from a lot more than material property for well over a century now. That is not something you can just _buy back."_

"That's why we're doing everything we can to rebuild, return resources, give back and help those in need."

"But it would still be occupation."

Silence. Zuko shifted, leaned back in his chair and brought his fingers to massage his temples. The old scar was hurting, the new scar was hurting, and arguing was giving him an all-around headache.

"You're still thinking of the Fire Nation as the enemy, right?" He accused, and a heavy silence set into the room. Aang hesitated and Katara looked away.

"That's not true," the Avatar tried, but the words didn't come out with reassurance or conviction.

"You know what?" Zuko pushed himself up with his hands taking support at the edge of the table. "I don't think anything good will come out of this conversation if you don't believe I'm on your side. Bye."

With that, he was out of the room.

\--

They found Toph in the Royal Garden.

She was sitting by a fountain with one feet in the water and the other feeling the ground, toes curled in the soil. Light steps approached her, unhappy and dragging. _Twinkletoes and Sugar Queen._

"Well, did you get anywhere?" She inquired without getting her hopes up. Their steps spoke louder than their words, anyway. People really let out a lot without saying a word, without meaning to.

"No," Aang sighed. There was a weight next to her and then a splash. Katara had sat down before the fountain as well, feet in the water. Toph had heard the first half of the argument and it still rung in her ears.

"Has anyone talked to the Earth King?"

Apparently, the thought hadn't even crossed their heads, for they both gasped, and she could hear Aang's little feet hop up in joy.

"The Earth King!" He exclaimed. "He's reasonable. Maybe he can help us solve this."

Toph gave her best attempt at rolling her eyes. Wasn't it what sighted people did?

_"Duh."_ A huff. "It's his kingdom you're arguing about. How did you not consider he'd have something to say about this?"

"He's not exactly the most opinionated man out there, you know," Aang countered, but Toph wasn't amused. Her people deserved a little more consideration and recognition than this.

"He's still _the_ man," she muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup. This story is still a giant awkward disaster.


	4. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Fire Lord is tired and the Gaang is concerned but since that is a theme throughout the whole story;  
> In which Zuko tells his sister about a mysterious phenomenon also known as empathy.

> **trust  
> ** _/trʌst/  
> _ _noun._ A firm belief or hope in the reliability or safety of someone.

As if things couldn't get any worse, the next day Mai showed up at the Palace.

It was during breakfast. As hotheaded as he was, Zuko had calmed down enough to be in the presence of his friends. Although he was too proud to admit it out loud, he had some regrets for his earlier behavior as well. He respected and loved all of his friends. Deep down, they were all just human beings trying to do the right thing but getting lost and sidetracked along the way. He had paid a visit to Appa in the garden and it had soothed him. Enough for him to ignore how the bison's tongue ruined his royal topknot. 

Much to his staff's dismay, he had let Momo inside the building. Apart from stealing food from the chef and dropping a vase that dated back to the Pho Zel Dynasty, the little winged lemur stayed out of trouble. The same couldn't be said about Sokka, who had taken out his frustration at a lonely boomerang practice in the spa, _of all places,_ and perhaps after a quest of flexing his few muscles to the wall-length mirrors, he managed to break one of them to shards.

And into this fiasco that the Team Avatar was, the Fire Lord's ex-girlfriend decided to walk into.

And then they heard a triumph of _Suki! Mai! Katara! Toph!_ thrown around. The girls had bonded over their last meeting over glasses of plum wine and a game of Pai Sho, which apparently was what it took to melt the ice off Mai’s face. They had taught Toph to play, which required a bit of hands roaming around the game board, but once she got the gist of it, they had hard time beating her.

Zuko pretended to immerse in his cup of ginseng tea when the group caught up. Of course, after what felt like an eternity of chatter but must not have been longer than minutes, Mai addressed the urgent matter that was the ugly, poorly healed wound on his right temple.

“Where did you get that from?”

And as if they'd never broken up, she chose a seat right next to him and reached out to place a hand on his forehead. This time, he retained from flinching, if only to prove something. The break-up was still fresh and sore and revoked a myriad of thoughts in his mind, most of them regretful. Out of the two of them, she may have appeared more impassive on the outside, but it had been him putting up walls in the end.

“Azula threw a tea cup at me.” Saying it out loud like that made him suddenly conscious about how _idiotic_ it sounded like.

_“Aww,”_ Mai breathed, her usual deadpan face now turned to a pout. She withdrew her hand. “Not again.”

There was about to be an unnecessary comment from Sokka. They knew to expect one at this point. It came with a frown that might have been more confused than mocking. _“Again?_ So, this is a frequent occurrence?”

“No-”, Zuko objected, or at least attempted to. Too bad Mai beat him to it, providing the group details that could have as well remained out of public knowledge, her voice and face betraying boredom as she did so.

“Last time it was a bowl of noodles.”

Sokka huffed. “And I thought _my_ little sister was difficult.”

“For the love of spirits, can we _not_ discuss my family right now?”

That seemed to do the trick. From there on the topic of the conversation drifted towards politics and the idea of going to Ba Sing Se to negotiate with the Earth King. They agreed to set off the following morning.

  
  


_\--_

  
  


“Don't throw tea cups at my ex.”

Mai was standing at the entrance of her room and she adamantly decided not to bless her with eye contact, even with a murderous glare. Her hands remained steady as she painted her lips in bright red and she never stopped staring at her own powdered face in the mirror. Her hair was up but only to keep it away from her face, she was yet to finish styling it.

“Oh. Did you leave him too?” The scoff was swollen with poorly restrained bitterness. “I wish I'd known earlier how good you are at stabbing people in the back. I could have made use of that skill.”

Mai rolled her eyes.

“I didn't _stab you in the back._ You did it yourself. You keep pushing people away until they can't find their way back because you can't accept that people actually _do_ care.”

This time, Azula put down the brush she was holding to stop herself from snapping it in two or bursting it into flames.

“Is that how you justify your betrayal?”

“Quit it, Azula.” Mai’s voice was void of emotion, and she had crossed her arms impatiently. “We both know I'm right.”

Azula bit her lip and scowled at the mirror. Perhaps with a little more emotional intelligence she would have been able to discern she was angry at herself and not at her former friend.

“Why are you here?”

With that, Mai told her.

  
  


\--

  
  


The servants were treating her poorly and if she did not know any better they looked at her not in fear but with _pity_ and it made her sick in the stomach. They feared her, they must have feared her. She wanted them to, badly. She had settled for being somewhat content with their absence which might have been due to the tendency of things bursting into blue flames or shattering to pieces around her.

Like the pipa that little Fire Lord Zuzu had brought her. She recalled it from childhood. A gift from Mother who had always lied to her that her playing was flawless. Either that or then whatever musicality ran in their family had skipped poor Ursa and she genuinely could not hear all the mistakes that screeched in her ears.

Simply looking at the instrument stressed her out and brought tears to her eyes. Had she ever enjoyed playing it or just the attention she had received for doing so? Had she even genuinely enjoyed the attention or lived for it just because it was the closest thing to validation that she could ever afford?

In any case, she had heard Mother ask her to play a song, some stupid Earth Kingdom tune that she’d had her learn, but she kept pulling the strings in the wrong way and the pressure was too much _too much_ and the pipa had found itself in two pieces against the door of the room and Mom had said it was a shame because it had been such a pleasure to listen to her play again--

She never said it out loud, but sometimes she wished she was mediocre. Ungifted. Just a poor, ugly peasant somewhere no one had heard of. It was stressful to be so perfect all day around, destined for Greatness that was out of reach for now. But then she would always come to her senses.

She was born lucky.

_She was born lucky._

\--

_Red._

_Everything turns red. The sky, the sea, the snow underneath their feet. It reflects from their faces and eyes. Even his pale skin appears ruddy as if he is covered in blood and he as well might be. Blue eyes have turned purple and theirs a fiery gold. Like fire._

_The red that surrounds them is not fire. He knows fire red, and once he thought it was the worst of them. Nothing compares to fire red pain. The blinding, deafening pain of flashes and burns, how it pulsates and blocks the vision as waves of black and white. One could scream the air out of his lungs yet hear nothing. It is all-consuming, and half of his face is a living, dead reminder of it._

_They leave it out of their songs of war but burned human flesh smells no different to unseasoned pork or rare beef. A grotesque proof of the nature of human life, how fragile it is, how ordinary. When he was recovering from his burns he refused meat for months, the smell twisted his stomach._

_There is crimson red, too. That of blood. The war has painted entire cities in it, staining them with its coppery odor. He knows blood, too, almost as well as he knows burned flesh._

_But the color that surrounds them is neither fire nor blood. It is deeper, brighter, more ominous. Unnatural, out of this world._

_Once again, the moon is gone._

_He hears his Father’s laugh._

“Zuko?”

The laugh faltered. There were hands on his shoulders, nails sinking into his skin. Instinctively, he flailed his hands and fire flailed with him. Yet when his eyes flashed open the face before him was not thin and angular with deep shadows and a crooked nose but soft and feminine and covered in dramatic makeup--

It was not Father, but the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors. His personal bodyguard. _Suki._

“I’m so sorry!”

The apology came out breathless, as if he had just sprinted through the entire Fire Nation instead of woken up out of three hours worth of sleep. He felt as such. Suki, who had flinched away and hissed at the fire, stared at him. She wasn’t hurt but her painted face betrayed annoyance. Either that or frustration or worry. Zuko lacked the emotional intelligence to discern. That or he’d just woken up, feeling lost and confused.

“You were screaming,” she said. Of course she did, as if he hadn’t just - half unconsciously - aimed a punch at her. Straight to the point, loyal to her nature. She was a warrior, after all.

“I was?”

There was something in her eyes, he could see it even in the dark, and she sat down on the very edge of his bed with caution that felt unfitting for her. He sat up as well and crossed his legs. Apparently he had kicked his blanket on the floor in his sleep. Perhaps it is the mind fog or the bedheaded, unfocused confusion, but he didn’t even feel embarrassed.

They sat in silence for a minute. Her searching for a sensible way to put it and him collecting his thoughts. 

“Zuko,” she said at last, “-I’m worried for you. We’re all worried, actually.”

“All?” A frown. “What do you mean by _all?”_

She bit down on her lip, which somehow looked a little comical with a face painted in pure white and bold red.

“Me, Aang, Katara, Mai-” 

He felt anger flash within him, and it was clear in his voice as he cut her off.

“You’ve talked about me? _Behind my back?”_

“No, listen! You’re getting it all wrong!” She exclaimed in defense, and before Zuko could go on, the words flooded out of her mouth.

“You’re so drowned in your duties and this obsession to _do the right thing_ that it’s like you’ve forgotten you’re _human_ , Zuko. You barely eat or sleep and you keep pushing people away. You think you need to do everything alone, but that’s not true. We’re your friends. We care about you.”

It was Zuko’s turn to bite his lip. He was hungry and tired but instead of taking it as a sign that there was truth behind the lecture he concluded he had neither time nor energy for this conversation.

“I’m the Fire Lord now. I might have had time for fun and games before and I understand that you kids miss it, but the world is recovering from a hundred years of _war_. This nation and its people _need_ me and my responsibilities lie with them, not with _you_.”

“But-”

“You’re excused.”

Suki’s painted lips turned into a thin line. She wanted to yell at him that he was the most thick-skulled person she had ever met. That he was twisting her words _on purpose_ and not for the sake of the common people but for his _stupid pride._ That he could hardly run a nation if he was pushing himself into a wreck of a human being.

She said nothing and kept her eyes on the floor as she left the room.

The next time he screamed in his sleep she didn’t wake him up.

\--

The bruise had barely healed when she next saw Zuzu and somehow it made her feel gleeful.

It wasn’t the only thing that did, either. She knew something he didn’t and she was going to enjoy the leverage with all that she could.

“I know you've been seeing Father,” she chanted once her brother sat down, cross-legged and with a tray of tea like whenever he came to visit, although this time was earlier than usual. The sun had barely risen and she hadn't had the time to do her makeup yet. The look of dismay in his face was _delicious_ and she hopped to join him in the ground, grabbing an egg tart as she mimicked his posture. “Mai told me.”

It was Zuzu’s turn to roll his eyes and sigh. “Why does _everyone_ keep talking behind my back?”

“Because no one can be trusted,” she hissed. She should know. The sad reality of it had came to bite her in the back more than once. “It hurts, doesn't it?”

Or then they both had a warped up sense of loyality. She could hear Mai’s words ring in her ears and as much as she hated it she had to admit, if only to herself, that perhaps there was a glimpse of truth behind them.

“If you teach me how to redirect lightning, I will help you find Mother,” she offered at last. It was her plan. Or at least a part of it. The rest was to have that crown back on her head, but that was quite a bit to the future and the details she was still stewing on. For now, if only out of principle, she wanted to know the one thing that Zuzu did that she didn’t.

The answer disappointed her. 

“I don't know if you'll be able to do it.”

“Ha! If you can do it, so can I. I've always been better than you. At everything.”

“It requires compassion. Empathy.”

A huff. _He couldn’t be real_. Fire was remorseless, it never required such weakness. “You're trying to fuck with me, aren't you?”

But Zuzu had always been a terrible liar. Apparently that didn’t run in the family. Or then they weren’t truly related like she had always suspected. In any case, his voice was sincere and his speech had that stupid, slight lisp as he went on.

“Uncle came up with the technique when watching Waterbenders. Water is flexible, adaptable. It heals. To redirect lightning, you need to let it flow through you. You can't do it if you're emotionally blocked.”

“Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me.”

“At the risk of sounding corny like Uncle or the Avatar, there's something I learned about empathy while I was banished.”

She rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue. “The more you talk, the more I doubt the end goal will be worth the pain of listening to you.”

“Empathy starts with yourself. If anger and denial block you from seeing your past for what it is, you lack self-compassion. You need to let go, Azula. It's going to be painful, but it's a process you need to go through if you want to move on.”

“You're even worse than Uncle.” The truth was, she was running out of words to say. Whether it was true or not, she didn't like what she was hearing. Maybe it was the preachy, pretentious tone that Zuzu had adopted along the years.

“You'll have time to think about it while I'm away.” His voice was uncharacteristically patient and it rubbed her the wrong way. “Don't do anything _stupid.”_

“Need a vacation already, Brother?” She sneered. It was her way of indirectly inquiring where he was headed. “You could as well hand the crown over to me.”

“Duty, not vacation. We're heading to Ba Sing Se-”

_“We?”_ She stressed, eyes narrow. She could only assume it was the Avatar and his sad group of friends that her brother was talking about. He rarely left the Palace, after all, and the quests had conventionally only arrived. Did this mean there was trouble in paradise? Spirits, it had only been a year since his coronation. She knew she would have been a much better Fire Lord than him.

Sadly, Zuzu was wise enough not to give her any more details.

“Bye, Azula. I'll come see you again once we return.”

She scowled at him when he left until the muscles in her forehead ached and she had to massage her temples to relax. She didn't want wrinkles, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll just end this with a quote from Aaron Ehasz:  
> "I always intended for Azula to have a redemption arc.  
> Longer and far more complicated than Zuko's. She had not bottomed in the end of season 3, she had further to go. At the deepest moment in her own abyss she would have found: Zuko.  
> Despite it all, her brother Zuko would be there for her. Believing in her, sticking by her, doing his best to understand and help her hold her pain that she can no longer hold alone. Zuko - patient, forgiving, and unconditionally loving – all strengths he gained from Uncle Iroh."


	5. Idiots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sokka injures Zuko's eye and tries to heal it with poor results.

> **idiot**
> 
> _/ˈɪdɪət/_
> 
> _noun._ [informal] Either one of these two.

After saying his goodbyes to Azula he joined the Gaang in the dining hall.

Or more precisely, the exact scene that he walked into included Sokka spreading out a scuffy, outdated map over the table, knocking over a cup of tea in the process, and Momo dipping its head in a bowl of fruits. With a sigh Zuko asked the servants to bring in a new map and some fruits that weren’t fully dipped in the saliva of a poorly mannered flying lemur.

He sat down, poured himself some Jade tea and scooped cooked rice and dumplings onto his plate. As he ate Sokka declared their travel plans with the same sobriety and importance as he would describe a highly strategic siege. Had it not been for the monkey and Toph’s muddy feet on the table it would have almost felt like one of those tedious official meetings with the Fire Nation council.

“Let’s make our first stop in Shu Jing and stay the night at Master Piandao’s castle.” Sokka’s finger decidedly fell upon an island in Eastern Fire Nation. Next, he pointed at Yu Dao, which Zuko had previously insisted they visit, and at last, at a spot south of the East Lake in the heart of the Earth Kingdom.

“From Yu Dao we’ll head east and stop by this freshwater pond to rest. It won’t take Appa long to fly to Ba Sing Se from there.”

Zuko attempted to intervene by asking if they had to make all three stops on the way, but out of a mouth full of dumplings, the words came out muffled and earned looks of confusion and baffled _whats_.

“Can’t we fly straight to Yu Dao and then to Ba Sing Se?” He repeated once he was able to produce comprehensible sounds.

“Huh?” Sokka’s face betrayed dismay as if the question was a personal insult. “Don’t you want to see Master Piandao?”

“Of course I do.” The words came out more defensive than he had intended them to. “But I don’t have time for-”

“We’re not going to put unnecessary pressure on Appa,” Aang interrupted, his voice decisively splitting the air, leaving no room for discussion. “We rest three nights, minimum. Any less is not negotiable.”

Suddenly the plate of rice before Zuko appeared more friendly than the faces of any of his friends, if only in his mind. He finished his breakfast in silence and self-reflection, barely listening to light-hearted conversation the rest of the Gaang carried on. Partly he wished he could have joined but his mood was too grim to enjoy the reunion or feel himself as part of the group. His thoughts kept drifting to his responsibilities as the Fire Lord and the state of the world. Mother’s whereabouts. Azula’s condition. The colonies. If he was failing the world or his own nation or perhaps _both_.

He sure felt like he was.

\--

“I challenge you to another Swordbending Kai.”

Absentmindedly he turned his better eye and ear to the Water Tribe boy stoutly standing some feet left from him. Quite a time and place he had chosen for the challenge; they had set off shortly after dawn and arrived in Shu Jing, at Piandao's Castle, at noon. Upon meeting his old master the Fire Lord had bowed deeply out of habit, as if forgetting that his position was no longer a humble student but the head of their state. It might have been the practical robes he had changed into or the simple red ribbon he had tied his hair with instead of the crown. The bow was then met by a short laugh and a tight hug from the old man. Next to him Sokka received a similar act of affection and proudly stated he had been keeping up his practice for the year, training ever since the end of the war.

They'd caught up over cups of tea and later roamed around the castle and the town. Sokka and Zuko wound up on the yard behind the castle to admire the sunset. Or, apparently, to admire sparring each other.

“For the last time, stop calling it Swordbending Kai,” he groaned. As if refusing to hear this Sokka fetched him his dual swords from Appa's back and shot him another puppy eyed look.

“Fine,” he gave in. “But on one condition. No boomerang.”

Even with another year of hard training - as Sokka had described spending the months after the war - he won the first four rounds in a row. His movements were slower than he would have liked, either out of lack of practice or sleep deprivation. Even so it was only during their fifth match that they wandered away from the yard to the bushes and he got a branch hitting his face and hurting his good eye. It was difficult to proceed with a blurry vision and after a while Sokka managed to disarm him.

“You've improved,” he noted grimly, holding a hand over his right eye. It hurt, and he was having difficulty walking straight. He could see lights here and there but shapes and forms were vague at best. After a minute of struggling, he had no choice but to sit down, holding his hand where the branch had hit him. He couldn't tell it for sure as he couldn't rely on his sight but he assumed the movement before him was Sokka approaching and reaching out a hand to offer help him up.

“Let's try one more time.”

Zuko huffed. “How? I can't see anything.”

“But I only hit your right eye.” The confusion in Sokka's voice was tangible and the feeling was mutual; it had been four years since Father burned his face and the consequences he was so familiar with that it didn't always occur to him that not everyone knew, that not everyone knew even though it was painted all over his face in red scar tissue and deformed features. How could he possibly see and hear with his eye and ear like he once had?

“In case you haven't noticed,” he hissed, “my father took care of the left eye years ago.”

It sort of slipped. Almost casually, as if admitting something mundane. Like throwing breadcrumbs at turtleducks as a child. 

But that was what it was. A bad memory in a head full of them. It followed him wherever he went and in his dreams he lived through it over and over again until it turned to something as common and mundane as their garden pond of turtleducks and breadcrumbs. It had shaped him and twisted his thoughts until he could no longer tell a good memory apart from a bad one and mistook the abuse for something he had brought upon himself, something he deserved. Apparently knowing better didn't necessarily result in feeling better, for it was only the shocked gasp from Sokka's direction that reminded him it was a story he had never shared with his friends as much as it was a part of who he was.

_“What?_ Your father what-”

“Where's Katara?” Zuko interrupted. He didn't feel like answering uncomfortable questions and even less he felt like receiving pity.

“She's out in town with Toph.” Sokka's voice still betrayed shock and he didn't quite like it. _Great_. Now he'd have to deal with this while unable to see and walk away from the discussion. With a sigh he reached out his hand to be helped up and then leaned onto his friend's shoulder for support. Unlike for Toph his feet did nothing at all to help him sense his whereabouts.

“Help me get inside.” It came out rather like an order than a friendly request, but then again it was entirely Sokka's fault that they were in this situation. Slowly they began to walk in some direction that Zuko could only hope brought them inside the castle and preferably somewhere comfortable like around a table for a cup of calming tea.

But as it turned out, such was too much to ask for. Instead of being seated he hit his feet against hard wood and fell down, dragging Sokka with him. Judging from the bumps he hit his knees to, they had tripped over stairs.

“Ouch!” He yelled. “Why didn't you tell me there were stairs?”

“I thought you knew!”

“How could I have possibly known? _I can't see!”_

“Toph would have known.”

Zuko mentally cursed the girl for setting such high standards for blindness. “She doesn't count,” he protested. “She is more capable than all of us combined. Now help me up!”

Somehow they managed to reach the dining room without breaking any of their limbs. Sokka pulled a chair for him and helped him sit down. He put his elbows down on the table and continued to hold his right eye. It was still aching and tearing up.

“I am not a waterbender, but I'm of Water Tribe. I can heal you,” Sokka offered with a voice that radiated a bit too much self-confidence for someone who definitely wasn't a healer.

“Oh dear,” Zuko muttered, rubbing his eye. He tried to flinch away when Sokka approached with what turned out to be a wet towel but the back of the chair was in the way.

“What are you doing?”

“Healing you!”

“More like trying to permanently blind me!”

“Stay still!” Sokka grabbed his shoulder and proceeded to do whatever it was that he was doing to his eye, which hurt like a Komodo rhino.

“Ow!” He yelled and tried to break free. Before he knew, they were both on the floor, he had hit the back of his head, and Sokka was lying on top of him.

It was this scene that the girls walked into.

“I'm sorry. Did we interrupt something?” Katara's teasing tone cut through the air.

“Thank spirits,” Zuko sighed. “Your brother was trying to _murder_ me.”

“I was _healing_ you!” Sokka argued, voice high-pitched and emotional as if it was him who had been hurt.

“It hurts worse than before!”

At that, his _healer_ got up with a dramatic huff, leaving him lying on the floor. The next time he felt a hand grab his, it was Katara.

“What happened to your eye?” She asked, and he tried his best to blink.

“Your brother happened.”

“Hey!” Sokka yelped. “You're just a bad loser.”

Katara sighed, and if he could trust his blurry, watering vision, she shook her head motherly.

“What would you idiots do without me,” she muttered. “Sit down and stay still. I'll help with your eye.”

\--

_The worst part is not fear._

_The fear before a strike. It makes his heart skip a beat and then slam against his chest with enough force that he thinks he must bruise inside. His throat closes down and his lungs are without air. His muscles tense up and refuse to move._

_The worst part is not pain, either._

_The pain is what he fears, though. It is a human response to avoid pain, to dread its arrival and beg for its passing. It consumes him whole and when it is gone he feels like a kicked dog._

_The worst part, he thinks, is that everyone is watching._

_Standing. Watching. Cheering. Crying. Whatever. Even if they look away they are there, bearing witness to his abuse. No one helps him. Everyone watches._

_Even Uncle._

_He forgives Uncle and he has never mentioned it, even when he is mad and they are fighting and he says other horrible things. He never says that in his dreams bad things happen, the pain is there, the fear is there, the shame is there, but Uncle isn't. Or worse, Uncle is but does nothing, even when he yells for help, begs for it. Uncle watches him like everyone else or looks away. All the same. It is as if they are all in it, all in a silent, mutual agreement to ignore his pain and anguish and pretend as if it's nothing, as if nothing is happening before them although he screams for his life._

_The more people he lets close to him, the bigger the audience to his suffering grows. He sees Aang, Toph, Sokka and Katara. Even Mai who told him she loves him. Even Suki who swore to protect him. They smile and talk about everyday things and he has never felt so lonely._

_Tonight Father burns his face again and everyone watches._

The world around him was pitch black and silent if not for his own screams that woke him up. That, or the hands grabbing his shoulders and shaking him.

Not knowing where he was, he cupped his face into his hands and felt his skin as panic built up in his chest.

No bandage. One side scarred and deformed and somehow still hurting like it refused to believe it had already been four years and he could hardly blame it. His fingers turned wet as he held his face and at first he thought it was blood but he could not smell iron or copper, only salt. Wherever he was, air was thin and lacking because his lungs were not getting enough despite his rapid breaths. He tried to push himself up but someone was holding him down.

“Zuko!”

The voice was familiar but his mind was a whirlwind and he could not track his thoughts to make sense of it. He needed air.

“Zuko.”

This time the voice was gentle and one of the hands grabbing his shoulder had shifted to his back and was rubbing it softly. He was gasping for air and reached out his arms to feel his surroundings which turned out to be a mattress on a wooden floor, a blanket and a pillow. Without another thought he grabbed the pillow, placed it between his crossed legs and buried his face in it. He must have done so out of habit because his thoughts were yet to make any sense but somehow it helped his breath slow down and soon he realized he wasn't running out of air after all.

He wished his realizations stopped there instead of proceeding to the understanding that he had woken up screaming and crying in a room that he shared with Sokka who was now rubbing his back as he hugged a pillow. As if he was a motherless child and not the Fire Lord. _Great._

“You ok, pal?” 

Was the guy _seriously_ trying to take a manly approach to his weakest moment? Even a fist bump could not have possibly saved the night. His body had given in to tremors, for Agni’s sake. Still out of breath and untrusting of his voice Zuko chose not to say anything but suffer from the sympathetic back rubs in silence and with his face buried in a pillow.

“Want to talk about it?” Sokka asked like the idiot that he was.

“What part of me looks like I want to talk about it,” Zuko breathed into his pillow.

“Uh, I don't know. Maybe the part of you that woke me up screaming and crying?”

Maybe he had asked for it, but as an emotional wreck it hurt to be met with Sokka's sarcasm. He sighed to his pillow a lot louder than necessary. If it was of any comfort he reminded himself that a lot of people had nightmares these days. Of their hometowns burned down to ashes, of fields that once grew crops turned to poorly dug mass graves. Of the dead who were never found and the lost who did not want to be found. For everyone who wished to close their eyes there was a fair share of recurring bad dreams to choose from. If only they had a choice; he would have certainly picked something else to keep him up at nights.

Something told him that Sokka, too, was familiar with bad dreams. Not necessarily as much his own as others. The soothing pattern that was rubbed against his back was too familiar for him to be the first one of its victims, as little as the sarcastic, meat-loving jerk had crossed him as the empathetic type. The duties of big brothers, he assumed. Perhaps his stiff posture revealed his thoughts, but Sokka broke the silence once again, his voice uncharacteristically sober and tone perhaps a little awkward as if this was as much out of his comfort zone as it was out of Zuko’s.

“I’m not going to force you to talk. But empirically speaking, it helps.”

What an ice breaker. Well, at least the choice of words had not been _scientifically speaking_ and he thanked Agni for that. Even so, simply the tone of the words gave him the impulse to speak and then pout more only to prove them wrong.

“Talk about what?” He asked although he already knew what it was.

“Whatever’s keeping you from sleeping. Duh. We could see your dark circles from the other side of the world. I’m sure Toph can _hear_ them.”

As dramatically as he could, Zuko sighed. Forget what he had ever thought about Sokka’s comforting skills; the hand had stopped rubbing his back, too.

“I’m fine.”

“That would sound a little more convincing if you weren’t, you know, _crying.”_

Instinctively he brought his hands to his eyes. He’d thought he’d stopped, but apparently they were still watering a bit. The pillow was wet, too.

“Fuck,” was all he could muster there and then. It was pretty much the only word he could think of, too. A summary of his past and present. This brought the hand back to his shoulder blades, rubbing circles and other patterns through the fabric of his shirt. Unknowingly he leaned against the touch and closed his eyes, dry and aching from the tears and the volcanic weather and being punched by a branch. Not that he had any use for them in the moment; the room was dark and there was little to see.

Talking helped, Sokka had assured, and so he talked. As if a dam had burst, the words flooded out in one cluster. Blame it on having been caught in his weakest moment at the little hours.

“I was thirteen at the time. I spoke out of turn at a war meeting and disrespected a general. I was challenged to an Agni Kai, which I agreed to. I wasn’t afraid to fight the general. But when the day came, it was Father who was facing me. I refused to fight him. So he burned my face and banished me-”

He was cut off by arms wrapped tightly around his body, a warm presence pressed close to him. At once they were an angled, adolescent lump of awkwardly placed knees and elbows and tangled hair.

“Why are you squeezing me with your body?”

“It’s called a hug, Zuko. I’m hugging you.”

“But why?”

“Shut up and accept your hug.”

Taken aback by the sudden act of affection, he gave in and returned the hug, patting Sokka in the back out of lack of better ideas on where to place his hands. Sokka hugged him long after he had stopped and was simply sitting there as an awkward lump until he was returned the luxury of personal space and physical integrity.

“Remind me again why we spared your father’s life?”

“He’s still my father.”

“Oh no,” Sokka said sharply and lifted a finger as if he was making a point. “No, he’s not. Burning children officially cancels fatherhood. That’s not how parenting works. You don’t get to burn your kid and keep your dad rights.”

“But-”

“No buts, Zuko. From here on you’re adopted. I’m your new dad.”

“You’re younger than me.”

“Quiet, son. Now go back to bed.”

Either he was too fed up with Sokka’s frenzied ideas or too tired to keep on the conversation, he placed the pillow where it had been and lay down on the mattress, decidedly closing his eyes and ignoring the show his _new dad_ was pulling in what he assumed was a desperate attempt to lift the spirits. In a matter of minutes the guy had given up and fallen back asleep, now snoring loudly, which was a lot more tolerable than playing house. Zuko wasn’t expecting to get any sleep for the remaining night.

For once, he was glad to be proven wrong.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some sweet bonding time between these two idiots ;-;
> 
> OOT but I had an idea for a modern AU. The Gaang are international students somewhere in Europe, say Geneva, Switzerland.
> 
> Sokka and Katara are Inuit and grew up in Canada. As a result of Project Surname (the government's program to assign surnames to Inuit people; Inuit naming traditions are more complex) they have a name of their ancestors' as their last name. Sokka is the "looks dumb, is actually smart" type of student who parties a lot. He loves arts but his art style is a little too abstract to be appreciated by everyone. Katara is a booksmart student and the mom of their group. I got a feeling she got glasses. Their mom died in a car accident when they were kids which affected Katara more as she survived the crash; Sokka wasn't there at the time.
> 
> Yue was Sokka's ex, but sadly passed away due to complications of her heart transplant.
> 
> Aang is of Tibetan descent. Because being the last Air Nomad is a theme for him in the series, in the AU he lives the somewhat alienating experience of growing up as an immigrant in modern day Europe. In school there is one subject he is very talented in but he is a little silly otherwise.
> 
> Momo is a cat with big ears and big eyes, like a Cornish Rex. He keeps stealing people's food. Appa is a big old lazy rescue dog that has been with Aang forever.
> 
> Ozai is a major asshole and either the cutthroat CEO of a company named something like Royally (because I'm uncreative) OR the head of the university, I haven't decided yet. He wants Azula to be his successor or something else equally great. Azula is a perfectionist straight A student and a certified Mean Girl. Her and Zuko live with Uncle Iroh who owns a cute small tea shop. Zuko occasionally helps him out, Azula doesn't. Ursa moved away and remarried when they were young, they have a younger half sister named Kiyi but they're a bit estranged from this side of their family. Their family situation is hella complicated overall and social services have been involved. They're of Japanese descent and live in Switzerland.
> 
> The Beifongs are a crazy rich family in Shanghai. Toph has come to study in Geneva all alone because she's strong and independent. She got a Tiger mom situation but she is showing a middle finger to her parents' expectations. She parties a lot and does Krav Maga just so she can kick some ass.
> 
> Zuko and Sokka are definitely geeky about something untrendy. Azula is the best dressed girl in the whole campus. She is crushing on her best friend Ty Lee who does circus and gymnastics. Mai is goth and chronically bored but occasionally gets in trouble with her friends, fully enjoying the freedom she now has away from her controlling and uptight parents.
> 
> These dorks play boardgames together and copy each others' homework.
> 
> What do you think? :D


End file.
